


The Incubus: Fallen Warrior

by BenAddictViolaBatch



Series: The Incubus [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Demon, Demon Sex, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Johnlock Roulette, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sexual Content, Succubi & Incubi, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenAddictViolaBatch/pseuds/BenAddictViolaBatch
Summary: This is a reimagining of chapter 1 of The Incubus in which the roles are reversed. (Sherlock is the human and John is the incubus.) It was written to fulfill a request from a reader. Essentially, this is neither completely the same nor completely different from chapter 1 of The Incubus.For L., always.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Incubus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830112
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	The Incubus: Fallen Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a tag for dubious consent. Please see the note at the end for a detailed (spoilery) explanation as needed.
> 
> I can’t believe I actually have to say this, but I swear by all that is holy (or unholy as the case may be) that this work was absolutely NOT inspired by any current news events. I have been working on The Incubus for many months, and the original publication date of the first two chapters predates any bizarre stories currently circulating. Thank you! ❤️
> 
> Cover art for this work: https://benaddictviolabatch.tumblr.com/post/625889307054473216/the-incubus-fallen-warrior-benaddictviolabatch

He was in the morgue the first time it happened.

The stare was so intense, he could feel it like a weight on his body. He straightened up, removing his gloves with a snap of latex. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, marveling to himself. He didn’t know Molly had it in her to be this aggressive with her desires. 

He turned to confront her. There was no one there. 

The second time it happened, he was at a crime scene. He was crouched next to the body when he felt it. 

It struck him as rather disrespectful, even by Sherlock’s admittedly low standards. 

The lascivious gaze falling on his body made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sherlock stood and turned pointedly to discover who was responsible. 

He scanned the area rapidly, finding that none of the Met personnel in view were looking in his direction.

Yet he still felt the weight of someone’s eyes on him. 

He was unable to contain his huff of frustration as he returned to his work. 

When it happened the third time, Sherlock was no longer willing to sit idle and let it continue. 

He was at his kitchen table in his flat at Montague Street when the feeling washed over him again. He was not alone. 

Sherlock carefully maintained his composure, not wanting to telegraph his awareness to the intruder. He shifted his eyes from his microscope to the door of his disused oven to catch the intruder’s reflection. 

He could barely make out the image of a figure behind him. A male, short in stature but strong. There was something on his back. It almost looked like a large pair of wings, but Sherlock knew that was patently ridiculous. The man must have some sort of equipment strapped to his back. Perhaps it was some kind of weapon.

Sherlock made his move quickly, knowing he didn’t have much time before the man realized he’d been noticed. 

In one smooth motion, Sherlock leapt from his chair and swung it out behind him to knock the man off his feet. In the process, he spun around to face the intruder. 

The kitchen was empty save for Sherlock. 

When he woke, the creature was crouched atop his footboard. Sherlock yelped in shock and instinctively scrambled up against the headboard. 

“It’s all right,” the creature said quietly, holding out his hand in what was surely meant as a soothing gesture. 

Sherlock’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. He clutched at his chest, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over his body. He stared in astonishment at the extraordinary intruder at the foot of his bed. 

The creature was generally human in appearance, compact, and well built. His fawn-colored hair was struck through with both gold and silver strands, and fell over the most remarkable pair of deep blue eyes Sherlock had ever seen. 

He was dressed for battle, in vaguely Roman-looking black leather armour over a midnight blue tunic. Twin swords were lashed across his back, passing between the large, leathery black wings rising from the backs of his strong shoulders. At the top of his head was a pair of delicately curled ebony horns, decorated with exquisite filigree-like gold markings. 

As Sherlock was taking all of this in, the creature’s long black tail whipped forward. Sherlock was barely able to catch sight of the intricate gold markings on the spade-shaped tip before it whipped away again. 

All told, the creature was the most remarkably beautiful thing Sherlock had ever laid eyes on. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. 

A subtle grin passed over the creature’s mouth. 

“What are you?” Sherlock managed. 

The creature cocked his head. “Let’s just say I’m a fallen warrior,” he said with a predatory smile. 

“ _Fallen?_ ” 

The smile turned hungrier. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Not generally.” He gestured at the creature’s leathery wings. “You’re a demon, then?” he asked, trying to ignore the waves of cold fear passing through his body. 

“An incubus, if you want to be precise,” he answered, his eyes roving over Sherlock’s body. 

Overwhelming terror washed through Sherlock. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the incubus said gently, trying to calm him. 

He reached out toward Sherlock’s leg, but Sherlock yanked it out of reach. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sherlock was too petrified to respond. 

“It’s okay,” the demon soothed, hopping forward onto Sherlock’s mattress. He took hold of Sherlock’s ankle, and all of Sherlock’s fear melted away. 

Sherlock stared down at the hand on his ankle. The fingertips ended in blunt, filed-down ebony claws. “What -  _how?_ ”

“Shhh,” the demon continued, “I’m not here to hurt you, Sherlock.”

“How do you know my name?”

The demon was working some kind of magic on him. He wanted nothing more than to succumb to it, but his mind was making connections. 

“It was you. You’ve been stalking me!”

The incubus inclined his head in acknowledgment. 

“I saw you. Reflected in the oven door. I saw the shape of your wings, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Clever boy.”

“How long have you been following me?”

The incubus shrugged, causing his large wings to rise and fall in tandem with his shoulders. “You already know. You noticed me every time.”

“And yet I never really saw you.”

His thumb was stroking Sherlock’s ankle. “I’m under strict orders not to get caught on CCTV.”

Sherlock scoffed. “You’ve made an error, then. My brother has hidden cameras all over this place.”

The incubus grinned. “Like that one?” He pointed upward at the corner of Sherlock’s wardrobe. 

Sherlock looked, and saw the remains of a shattered camera dangling from its cord. He made eye contact with the creature again. “Clever demon.”

The incubus was moving even closer. Both of his hands were in Sherlock’s hair. He was leaning in, and Sherlock was falling under his enchantment. But he had to know. 

“What’s your name?”

The demon froze, millimetres away from contact. He pulled back. “I don’t -”

Sherlock looked into his exquisitely blue eyes. “Please.”

He blinked rapidly. “I don’t usually give it.”

Sherlock was certain he would die if he couldn’t know. “ _Please_.”

“John,” the demon blurted out. His brow furrowed as though he’d surprised himself. “It’s John.” Then he was leaning closer, rapidly closing the distance between them. 

Sherlock was expecting a kiss, but John kept moving past his mouth. He nuzzled up against Sherlock’s neck instead, inhaling deeply and responding to Sherlock’s scent with a soft growl. 

Sherlock had never felt anything so arousing as the heat of the demon’s breath against his neck. His body reacted profoundly, opening to receive the weight of the demon’s body against his as the demon gripped his waist, pulling his body beneath him. 

Sherlock was already rock-hard. He tipped his hips up instinctively as the demon’s armoured body pressed heavily into his own more vulnerable form. His legs parted of their own accord, spreading to bracket the incubus’s slim hips.

He couldn’t think. He was overcome with an intense desire to give the demon  _anything he wanted._

He was so out of control. The demon was doing something to his mind as well as to his body. The only thing in his mind was  _more, more, more_. 

The demon’s mouth had opened against Sherlock’s neck and the sweet, wet pressure of his tongue on Sherlock’s skin was utterly intoxicating. 

It was everything Sherlock had ever desired. 

But part of Sherlock’s brain was objecting. He didn’t do this. He never had. His sexual experience was confined to occasional masturbation and, once in a great while, a particularly interesting dream. He wasn’t equipped to deal with this encounter. 

“John, wait!” Sherlock put his hands on his leather-clad shoulders to push him back a small distance. “There’s something you should know.”

John looked down at him with pure, unbridled lust in his remarkably blue eyes. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah?”

“I’m - I don’t -”

“You’re a virgin.”

“I - you can tell?” Shame rushed through him instantly. 

“Of course. This is what I do, Sherlock. I know a virgin when I see one.” He winked. He was propped up on one hand. The other was doing something incredibly arousing to Sherlock’s scalp. 

“I don’t know how to do this, John.”

“It’s fine, Sherlock.  _Any_ human’s skill set is so inferior to mine, it hardly makes a difference.”

Sherlock was struck silent. He felt light headed. 

John gave him a wolfish grin and leaned in. “Such a shame, lovely thing like you going to waste. I thought I should do something about it.” His voice was rough, right next to Sherlock’s ear. “You neglect your opportunities, Sherlock. Take that young lady in the morgue. Such a sweet little woman, and she’d do  _anything_ you wanted.” 

He nipped at Sherlock’s neck, and Sherlock gasped.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it, Sherlock?” he purred. “You don’t  _want_ a sweet little woman, do you?” 

He sat back, knees spread, leaving Sherlock panting beneath him. 

“You want someone tougher, don’t you? Someone -” he passed his hand down the front of his armour to his groin. “Harder.”

Sherlock let out an extremely undignified noise. His arousal was so heightened, he thought he might actually lose consciousness. 

John chuckled, his tone filthy. “I know what you need, Sherlock.”

He pulled a pair of coiled leather straps from where they had been secured at his waist. 

Sherlock gasped deeply. A cold wash of fear crashed over him. He wasn’t foolish enough to let a demon bind him, no matter how beautiful that demon may be. 

John was pulling at Sherlock’s t-shirt. Before Sherlock could process what was happening, his shirt was gone, tossed away somewhere. 

John had taken hold of Sherlock’s right wrist and was kissing the inside of it. The feeling was incredible. It was like there was a direct connection between his wrist and his cock. He couldn’t catch his breath. 

Then his arm was extended and his wrist was bound to the headboard. Sherlock had meant to put up a fight, but John was kissing his other wrist and the sensation was so exquisite that Sherlock didn’t even notice when John bound it to the headboard as well. 

Sherlock realized with a sudden shock that he was half naked and bound to his headboard. Something in the back of his mind began to panic. He jolted forward and was pulled up short by his bonds. 

“Easy, Sherlock.” John placed a hand on Sherlock’s breastbone. All of Sherlock’s panic and fear melted away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He smiled widely, revealing a set of sharp-looking teeth. “Much.”

Sherlock wanted to object, but it was like he was underwater. “You’re doing some kind of magic on me,” he murmured. 

John’s hand still rested heavily on Sherlock’s chest. “I’m just relaxing you. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked dreamily. 

“No, sweetheart. I’m going to feed on your energy, but it won’t hurt you. In fact, you’re going to enjoy it very much.”

Sherlock was floating. 

John leaned down. He brushed his lips against Sherlock’s, feather-light. Sherlock didn’t dare move. Then John was kissing him. 

John kissed Sherlock gently. He kissed him hard. He kissed him tenderly, and he kissed him deeply. Sherlock had no idea there were so many ways to kiss. 

His hands grasped at the air, desperate with the need to touch John. 

At length, John pulled back. Sherlock lay below him, utterly consumed with the need for  _more_. 

Then John’s hands were everywhere. Sherlock tipped his head back and succumbed to his touch. It was electric. 

John was moving Sherlock’s legs so he could take his pyjama trousers off. He threw the trousers behind him, settled back between Sherlock’s legs, and grabbed Sherlock’s hips with his ebony-clawed hands, growling through his teeth. 

Sherlock had never felt so exposed. It was exhilarating. He strained at his bonds as his cock throbbed in anticipation. But there was something he needed. 

“John!”

The demon leaned in. 

“I need-” he gasped. 

John was so close, the heat of his breath passed over Sherlock’s cock. 

“I need to see you!”

He froze. “I’m right here, Sherlock.”

Sherlock explained, “I need to see all of you. No armour. No boots. No tunic. Just you.”

John sat back. “Why waste time undoing it all? I can get to what’s important.” He slid one hand under the hem of his tunic, clearly taking hold of a sizable cock. He hissed in pleasure. 

Sherlock struggled to focus as he watched. “ _Please_.” 

The incubus let go of his cock. Concern passed over his lovely face. “What is it about you that has me breaking all my rules?” he muttered, almost to himself. He slid off the side of the bed. 

He started by removing the twin swords crossed between his magnificent leathery wings and setting them carefully on the floor. Then he unbuckled and removed his breastplate. It took him several minutes to remove every piece of his armour, including the boots that went up past his knees. 

Finally, he was clad only in his midnight blue tunic. After undoing the buttons around his wings, he hesitated, taking a deep breath. Then he let it fall away. 

Sherlock was overcome. He had never imagined anything could possibly be so beautiful. 

“Better?” John asked. 

Sherlock was speechless. 

“Souvenir of the great battle,” he said, indicating the prominent scar on his shoulder. 

Sherlock couldn’t help doing a quick analysis of it. John had been run through with a sword. Sherlock’s heart clenched. 

“Now you see why I keep the clothes on?”

Sherlock found his voice. “You’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”

John was nonplussed. “Even with -”

“You’re perfect, John.”

“What I am,” he said, a predatory glint coming to his eye, “Is  _hungry_.”

John was back on top of him so fast, Sherlock didn’t even see him move. Sherlock startled hard, gasping deeply. John settled his body against Sherlock’s, heavy and hot. 

Sherlock had never felt anything so wonderful as John’s naked skin against his own. 

John was kissing him again. His hands were in Sherlock’s hair and he was kissing him like the world was ending. 

Sherlock wanted to stop time and live in that moment forever. His arms strained at their bonds, aching to hold this remarkable being even closer. 

All too soon, John moved on to Sherlock’s neck and made his way down his body. Sherlock turned his head, resting it against his arm as he surrendered to sensation. 

When John reached his nipples, Sherlock cried out in shock. He hadn’t known his nipples were capable of such incredible pleasure. 

The demon continued downward onto Sherlock’s belly, and Sherlock was burning with anticipation. Was this magnificent creature planning to suck his cock? Would Sherlock die of pleasure if he did?

John paused. Sherlock looked down to see his extraordinary blue eyes sparking with lust. 

He winked at Sherlock. “Ready, sweetheart?”

Sherlock was utterly incapable of responding. 

John adjusted his position. He then grabbed Sherlock’s hips, growling deeply. His grip was stronger than steel. 

Sherlock watched in awe as John bent low. This was surely going to kill him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The demon grasped the base of Sherlock’s cock with his ebony-clawed hand, and intense pleasure washed through Sherlock’s body. He cried out loudly, “John!”

John was already bending lower to deliver a heavy lick to the head of his cock. Sherlock had never felt anything so exquisite. He cried out uncontrollably. 

Sherlock was so consumed by pleasure, he couldn’t make sense of the licks and open mouthed kisses John was giving him. His eyes rolled back as his head fell against the headboard. 

And then John took him all the way in. 

Sherlock cried out in anguished ecstasy, completely destroyed by more pleasure than his body and mind could comprehend. 

What John was doing to him was unimaginable. Sherlock was suspended in a state of unparalleled ecstasy, with no end in sight. He couldn’t understand it. By all reasonable expectation, he should have come in seconds. But John was working some kind of magic on him again, keeping him trapped in intense pleasure. 

He gasped for breath in between animalistic moans he was unable to stop. With great effort, he lifted his head to watch John. 

John looked up at Sherlock through his lashes. Sherlock was shocked to discover that, as he absorbed Sherlock’s pleasure, John’s eyes had begun to glow. 

Sherlock continued to watch as John moved his hand to Sherlock’s bollocks, squeezing them with precisely the right amount of pressure and ratcheting Sherlock’s pleasure impossibly higher. 

His other hand clutched hard at Sherlock’s hip. The ebony claws, though blunted, dug in to the point of pain. Sherlock found that the pain was only serving to enhance the experience, and that he didn’t mind at all. 

Sherlock began to realize that it wasn’t just John’s eyes glowing. His whole beautiful body had begun to shine. His skin had a subtle tawny glow, and his wings shimmered like starlight. 

The fire of lust in John’s eyes grew more and more intense as he pleasured Sherlock. His hips began to roll in sympathy with his other movements. 

Then something happened that Sherlock hadn’t dared to expect. John dragged his hand down Sherlock’s hip and onto his thigh, leaving a set of red claw marks in its wake, and shoved his hand between his own legs. Sherlock saw pleasure bloom on his beautiful face as his hand reached its destination.

And Sherlock thought that this was the moment that would actually kill him. 

He was already in utter disbelief that this unimaginably gorgeous creature was willing to suck his cock. The idea that he was receiving pleasure from it too was more than even Sherlock’s exceptional mind could fathom. 

Sherlock lost all sense of time as John continued to hold him captive in a state of immeasurable ecstasy. He began to wonder if it would last forever. 

Then John was doing something different with his tongue and Sherlock was in freefall. He jerked forward against his bonds and screamed as a new level of pleasure consumed him and he came harder and longer than he ever thought he could. 

John’s glow surged as Sherlock’s pleasure reached its pinnacle. 

When he’d finished, Sherlock was completely spent. He could barely keep his eyes open, but the gorgeously erotic vision between his legs was one he wanted to remember forever. 

John had released him and sat back on his heels, knees spread. He had his hand on his cock and was stroking it steadily as he looked down at Sherlock. 

His large wings had unfurled, still giving off starlight. Their peaks and curves framed his golden body beautifully. His blue eyes blazed with the force of the energy he’d absorbed from Sherlock and the intensity of his arousal. The gold filigree on his ebony horns and the gold and silver strands in his hair were picking up the moonlight shining through the window. 

Sherlock wanted to look at him forever. 

John was panting heavily, clearly very close to his peak. His bright eyes were fixed on Sherlock as he worked his big, thick cock. 

“Fuck, Sherlock,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, “The things I could do to you right now.”

Sherlock spoke without considering the ramifications, his voice weak with exhaustion. “I’d let you.”

“Sherl- oh, _oh!_ ” John twisted his hand over his cock, doubled over, and he was coming, all over the bed between them. His light surged again as his own pleasure overtook him. 

When he’d finished, he let go of his cock and put his ebony-clawed hands on Sherlock’s thighs to hold himself up as he recovered. Sherlock watched him breathe heavily, his wings moving in sympathy with his chest. 

After a few minutes, John moved forward and released Sherlock’s bonds with a touch of his hand. He slid off the side of the bed and began to get dressed. 

Sherlock rolled over and watched him silently. John’s tail was moving in slow, satisfied curves. 

When John was nearly finished dressing, Sherlock found that he couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Don’t go.”

John didn’t look at him. “I’d already be gone if you hadn’t made me take all this off.”

“If you’re fishing for an apology for that, you won’t get one.”

John finished buckling his breastplate and picked up his swords. 

Sherlock propped himself up on one elbow. “Don’t go.”

John strapped the swords to his back.

“I detest repeating myself.”

John turned and looked him in the eye. “You surely can’t think I can stay.” He retrieved the leather straps from Sherlock’s headboard and began to coil them. 

“You can do as you like, John.”

“You overestimate my position.” John fixed him with a rueful look. His eyes still glowed with the energy he’d absorbed from Sherlock.

“Then come back.”

“You tempt me.” He finished securing the straps at his waist. 

“I rather thought that was  _your_ job.”

John chuckled. “Good night, Sherlock.” He placed his hand on Sherlock’s temple, and everything went black. 

Sherlock opened his eyes to find sunlight streaming through his windows. 

A chill ran through his body. Had the events of the night before been real?

He took stock of the evidence. He was under the sheet, and he was naked. He was quite sure he’d been wearing pyjamas when he went to bed. His shoulders were sore, as if they’d been strained by having his arms bound for an extended period of time. His hip and thigh burned with the scratch left by the demon’s claws. 

Sherlock closed his eyes. His physical symptoms could well be psychosomatic. He was not in a position to prove or disprove the source of the soreness in his shoulders. 

The scratch, however, was a true test. It would make or break him. He closed his eyes and threw the sheet back.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

He opened his eyes. 

The scratch was there, livid on his hip and thigh and at completely the wrong angle for him to have done it to himself. The bluntness of John’s claws had kept them from breaking the skin, but they had left their mark. There was also an accompanying set of fingermark and claw-tip bruises on Sherlock’s hips where John had gripped him, providing further evidence of the encounter. 

A wash of relief and exhilaration passed through Sherlock. He leapt out of bed and began to dress. There was much to do. He had to learn to summon a demon. 

A very specific demon.

**Author's Note:**

> A note about consent to be read before this fic as needed: John manipulates Sherlock very heavily in this fic. He works magic on him to relax him and make him more submissive. This is equivalent to drugging someone and is obviously not okay. Please do not read this if it will negatively affect you. I invite you to try my other works, which feature explicit and enthusiastic consent. Thank you! 
> 
> A note about protection: As an incubus, John is not susceptible to human disease. He doesn’t need protection, but humans do. Please be safe!


End file.
